


Eryn Galen: The Lost Empire

by Sweetpeaasylum



Series: Eryn Galen: The Lost Empire [1]
Category: Atlantis: The Lost Empire (2001), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Atlantis: The Lost Empire Fusion, Atlantis Made Them Do It, Barduil - Freeform, Canonical Character Death, During The Hobbit, Eventual Relationships, M/M, Slow Burn, These are my precious cinnamon buns, possible smut in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 21:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10289840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetpeaasylum/pseuds/Sweetpeaasylum
Summary: After the elves ended the War of the Last Alliance with the Elessar, the crystallized essence that kept them all alive, also ending the lives of many, including their own people, they retreated back to Eryn Galen. Before the elves could repair the damages done, a fire drake of the north, Smaug, attacked their forest and The Lonely Mountain to steal the Elessar and the Arkenstone. The elves were presumed to have been lost in the attack, or killed from the loss of the Elessar. Bard believes that their lost empire could hold the key to finding the Elessar, and when he is offered a place in the expedition to find the lost empire of the elves, how could he say no?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there to anyone who might be reading this!  
> Over the next 8 weeks, I will be working 2 jobs and doing a heavy course load, but as of May 19th, I will have much more time to write. Until that point, I will not be able to update as frequently as I'd like to, but I have the full outline written out - I just have to do the full writing.  
> Please bear with me and I hope you enjoy this as much as I've been enjoying plotting and writing it!  
> Comments and suggestions are always most welcome!  
> Thanks for visiting! :D

“The Mirkwood elves were a rare sight among men, but they fought in the War of the Last Alliance alongside all of the free peoples of Arda. Without them, all would have been lost to Sauron and nothing would be as we know it,” this was a speech Bard had run through time and time again, in front of the same audience peering up at him from their seats. The silhouetted figures sat silently in the makeshift auditorium, listening as raptly as broomsticks, buckets, and skeletons could. Bard longed to find the ruins of Greenwood the Great, to follow in his ancestor, Lord Girion’s, footsteps. Though Girion had ultimately not been successful in slaying the great dragon that had destroyed much of the kingdoms of elves, dwarves, and men, legend had it that the hit had created a chink in the wyrm’s nigh impenetrable armour.

“So you see, this translation of the elvish  _ could _ mean that the journal of Girion is  _ here _ ,” he pointed to the X marked in red ink on the large map that was pinned up onto the wall. Before he could speak any further on the elves, a wretched clanking and grinding came from the machinery on the other side of the room.

“ _ Bard _ ,” a shout came from outside the door, followed by someone pounding on the other side. The master of laketown was always displeased with something Bard was doing - or not doing, as the case may be. This was no different. If the master actually wanted things to be more efficient around here, he really ought to spend a few gold coins to get a proper boiler set up to heat the water in his house.

Bard hurried to the door, swinging it open to reveal Alfrid, the cruel counsellor of the Master of Laketown, “Yes, yes, I heard that something went wrong. I’m getting to it. I’ll get to the fishing rigs after the Master hears my presentation,” he muttered before Alfrid could even begin complaining at him for not doing his job.

The counsellor sneered at the mention of Bard’s presentation, which seemed to have become a long-running joke amongst the Master and his associates. “Well, if you hope to have the Master hear your spiel, I doubt that’ll be happening today.  _ You’ve _ already missed your  _ appointment _ ,” the man stated haughtily with a somewhat sadistic gleam in his eye.

“Wh…” Bard began, but didn’t even bother to finish his question. He had  _ definitely  _ not lost track of time - his meeting wasn’t supposed to begin for another twenty minutes, which was why he’d been practicing for it all morning. Without saying another word, he slammed the door in the counselor’s face and began hurriedly gathering scrolls and notes all pertaining to his studies of the ancient elves of Mirkwood. The maintenance on the boiler could wait until after Bard had found the Master; he wasn’t going to duck out on this presentation again. Not when Bard had new information and had been putting it all together for months.

When he bustled through the door, Alfrid was making his way back to the Master’s ‘office’ and Bard barely managed to miss crashing into him as he ran for the stairs, bolting for the way out of the town hall. This wasn’t the first time this had happened and Bard knew exactly where he would run into Laketown’s greedy and drunken leader before he could get a chance to avoid this again.

“Master,” Bard called into the foyer as soon as he saw the man in question, “My presentation; you haven’t heard my presentation,” Bard called, sprinting down the hallway, “You must hear me out this time, I’ve made a new-” the great front door of the town hall was slammed in his face and Bard fumbled to get it open, nearly falling down the front steps in the process. He managed to stumble and right himself, keeping the scrolls and books in hand as he continued sprinting after the Master of Laketown before he could get into his boat to leave.

“Bard, I really must insist that you don’t-” before the Master could speak any further, Bard crashed into him on the dock just outside the town hall, sending some of his scrolls flying and knocking them both over with a resounding  _ thud _ .

The smell of alcohol, stale sweat, and spoiled fish hung about the Master and Bard quickly pushed himself off the man before he gagged from the stench. “ _ Please _ , you don’t understand, the recovery of the Elessar could change the course of man, even provide immortality,” the bowman pleaded. If he could only get the chance to tell the Master what could be gained from finding this ancient relic, then perhaps it could be recovered and provide for the people of Laketown.

“Guards! Guards!” The Master was shouting, fumbling to try to get to his feet. Before Bard could continue, he was being manhandled to his feet and tugged away from the Master as more men rushed to the scene to help pull the Master up to his feet. Once he had finished pushing his greasy hair back into place, the Master took two heavy steps forward until he and Bard were chest to chest (or rather, stomach to stomach). “Listen here, Bard -  _ Bowman _ \- I will  _ not _ have you pursuing this  _ fool’s errand _ . You’re no more than a commoner, and yet you seem to think yourself some sort of scholar,” bits of spittle pelted the bowman’s face as the Master continued, “What would your wife have to say about all of this?”

His wife? What did the Master know of Bard’s  _ wife _ ? He knew nothing of love but the lust for gold. “Then  _ I quit _ ! I’ll-I’ll leave and find the elves myself,” he added uncertainly. Perhaps he really shouldn’t have said that. The bowman knew he could survive out in the wilderness on his own, but what of his children? Tilda was only nine, and though Bain and Sigrid were learning how to fight and take care of themselves, they would not be safe on the run, let alone in the treacherous, untamed wilderness of Mirkwood.

“You can’t quit, Bard,” the Master laughed, motioning for the guards to unhand the bowman, which they did somewhat reluctantly, “who will feed your  _ offspring  _ then? I certainly won’t and they don’t have a mother, thanks to your  _ father’s _ interest in all this elf business,” he continued, chuckling at Bard’s expense before shoving him hard enough to send the man sprawling back onto the dock, “I keep you here out of the kindness of my heart, Bard, even though you’re always causing  _ trouble _ for me and everyone else here. But mark my words, if I hear but a  _ peep _ from you about  _ bloody Mirkwood _ or the  _ damned elves  _ again, you will not set foot in Laketown again.”

Without giving Bard the chance to defend himself, the Master lumbered past, kicking Bard’s shin with enough force that it would bruise as he stepped over his legs. Bard could do no more than watch as the Master stomped off the dock and into his boat, which sank dangerously low into the dark waters of Long Lake. Alfrid was quick to join him as soon as the Master was seated near the bow, paddling them away from the town hall and down a narrow stretch of water towards the centre of town.

Once the pair were far enough away that they knew Bard wouldn’t swim after them, the guards dispersed, a couple of them purposely kicking the bowman or stepping on his scrolls as they stepped around him, ruining a couple of the scrolls. After they left, Bard huffed, rubbing his hands over his face. Ever since his wife had died, leaving him alone with the kids, things became increasingly more difficult to deal with, causing him to delve further into his studies, in the hopes that he could somehow escape the rest of his life and all that had gone wrong.

But Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda needed him. They were what got him to his feet every morning to go to work and they were what got him to his feet now to make his way back home. Sigrid couldn’t just take care of her siblings forever; they were bound to get into trouble at some point and it was better to get home sooner rather than later. As he collected his notes and scrolls concerning Mirkwood, he considered just dumping all of it into the lake. If he wanted to keep his job and his home, it was probably for the best that he just gave up on all this. What did it matter anyway? The elves were probably all dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it. After staring into the nearly black waters of the lake, debating whether or not to throw his recent life’s work to the subtle current below, he decided that he would give it just a little more time. He was  _ so close  _ to finding the Elessar, after all.

The walk home was quiet, though the people of Laketown stared at the bowman from their windows and glanced up from their work as he passed, but none of them spoke. They were all too familiar with the Master’s wrath and what ills it could bring upon them all if they stepped even a toe out of line. Many of them looked up to Bard for standing up to the Master of Laketown as much as he did - very few ever had the guts to do anything when injustice was done - and he got things done when their leader would not.

When he arrived home, Sigrid had already started dinner, Bain was trying to restring his new bow, and Tilda was clumsily smacking the railing bannister with a wooden sword. “Da,” Tilda exclaimed as soon as she saw Bard step through the door. She dropped her sword and ran to her father, immediately hugging him tightly before he could take another step into the house, “Da, guess what!” She stepped back, smiling broadly with her lips firmly closed.

“Til lost another tooth,” Bain cut in, before Bard could even ask.

Tilda shot Bain a dirty look, “ _ Bain! I wanted to tell Da! _ Why do you always have to ruin everything,” she pouted, crossing her arms and scuffing one of her feet on the ground. Sigrid had to turn back to the food on the stove to hide her smirk at her younger siblings’ antics

“Another tooth? Well, no matter who tells me, it’s still a time to celebrate, don’t you think?” Bard bent down to press a kiss to the top of his youngest child’s head before dropping his scrolls and notes off onto an empty chair and then heading for the pantry. He had to rummage around a little, but after a moment, he found one of their last cookies that Sigrid baked for them this week. They rarely had enough sugar or honey to make anything sweet, but when they did, Bard had to make sure they rationed it so that it lasted a few days at least.

At the sight of the cookie, Tilda’s expression immediately brightened and she grinned, revealing a small gap where one of her front teeth had been. “For after dinner,” Bard murmured, “Sigrid would have my head if I ruined your appetite.” Sigrid smacked Bard’s shoulder with the towel she flipped over her shoulder.

“Well, I’ve been  _ slaving _ over this stew for the past ten minutes. I wouldn’t want anyone to miss out on this…” she stirred a pot of cabbage stew, making a face. It wasn’t the best, but they could leave it out on the doorstep in the cold weather and it would stay relatively edible for a while. The fish she added was fresh from the market and would hopefully improve the taste a bit; it was better than anything her father could cook, at least.

Bard shuffled around the kitchen table, setting Tilda’s cookie beside her plate before stepping up beside Sigrid, “Anything I can do to help out here, Sig, or would I just be in the way?”

Sigrid snorted at the offer, rolling her eyes, “I think I can handle cabbage stew and fish. You can barely handle making toast and jam in the mornings.”

“Alright, alright,” the bowman smirked, giving Sigrid a hug before shuffling to his usual seat at the head of the table to let her get on with the cooking. Tilda immediately joined him, grinning again at the sight of the cookie that awaited her after supper, but despite her growling stomach, she tried to distract herself by recounting stories of her day, which in reality was uneventful, but her embellished stories about princesses and footmen made life seem significantly more exciting.

“Oh, Da,” Bain interrupted as Tilda began a story about a strange man (he must’ve been a wizard, of course) who’d come to the door earlier that afternoon, “A man was asking after you earlier today - we didn’t open the door, but we told him you weren’t available and to come back later. He didn’t give us trouble or anything, just slid a letter under the door saying that you ought to read it and, ‘give it some consideration before time runs out.’”

As Bain spoke, Sigrid worked on dishing up the stew and fish, setting it all out on the table before handing Bard a letter from the counter, “We didn’t open it - the man said it was for your eyes only,” she interjected.

Tilda looked rather miffed that her stories had been stolen from her  _ twice  _ in one day (she had been just about to mention the mystery man at the door before she was so  _ rudely _ interrupted by Bain), but Bard spoke before she had the chance to embellish that story any further, “I’ll take a look at it later. I’m sure it’s nothing important,” the Master only ever seemed to want him around for his skill with hunting, fishing, and repairs (and usually Bard would be summoned by one of the guards if he was needed), so it probably wasn’t from him. But the bowman could think of no one else that might send him a letter without sticking around to have a talk or just waiting to come back later.

“It sounded kind of important, Da,” Bain replied, trying to hint that he wanted to know just what all this was about, but said no more when Bard shot him a look that said he was very much done discussing the potential contents of the letter. If it was something important, it would be better to read it when the kids were in bed anyway.

“Supper’s ready,” Sigrid interrupted, shuffling to the table with the large pot of cabbage stew to put out on the table. She returned to the stove for the fish, then for a carafe of water and loaf of bread from the counter before joining her family at the table. Though she was definitely curious about the contents of the letter, she knew well enough that her father didn’t need her siblings pestering him about it. He’d talk to them in his own time, if he needed to, and if he didn’t… well, she’d have to figure that out, but one way or another, she’d figure out what was in that letter.

“Cabbage stew  _ again _ ,” Tilda complained, pulling a face as Bard scooped some onto her plate.

“ _ Thank you, Sig.  _ Not all of us can eat cookies all the time, Til,” Bard teased lightly, “eat this and I’ll think about going to the market tomorrow to buy some more honey.” His finances were spread thin enough as it was, but his children shouldn’t have to suffer for his problems with the Master of Laketown. If he was lucky, that letter had something to do with another job. Ever since the barrels stopped coming down the river and travellers stopped crossing Long Lake, he hadn’t been much use as a bargeman, but hopefully this letter would pertain to a way he could at least try to make a little extra money.

At the mention of her cookie, Tilda brightened a little, but still didn’t look terribly pleased at the prospect of having to eat cabbage stew for the fourth night in a row. None of them were very pleased with it, but it was the best they could do for the time being. “I added some potatoes to it this time,” Sigrid murmured as she and Bain helped themselves to a piece of fish.

“Looks good,” Bain commented and Bard hummed in agreement, taking some for himself.

Once everyone was eating, supper was a relatively silent affair with the occasional comment from Bain about how he’d gotten better with his bow or from Tilda about the elf princess that supposedly came to visit. The leftovers, once everyone had finished, were covered and put on the doorstep again to stay cold, and though he was full and relatively content, Bard couldn’t help but feel dark thoughts creeping in from the back of his mind. He almost lost his job because he was an idiot and he could barely provide for his family as it was. Maybe it would be better if they all just moved out to the woods and never came back - at least he could teach his children how to survive and provide for themselves there without being berated on a daily basis.

Sigrid’s hand gently brushed Bard’s arm, drawing him from his thoughts, and he glanced up as she spoke, “Da, why don’t I put Bain and Tilda to bed and you can read that letter,” she suggested. “I’ll clean this up.” Something was wrong lately; her father just hadn’t been himself and she could only guess that it was something to do with the Master and his spies watching their every move, but she couldn’t know for sure. “Why don’t you take the boat out like you used to? It’s a nice night - no wind.”

A faint smile turned up the corner of Bard’s mouth and he took a deep breath, letting out a sigh before responding, “Yeah… yeah, maybe I will. Are you sure you don’t mind cleaning up? I can help,” he offered halfheartedly.

“I’ve got it,” she murmured, picking up the plates to put them in the washbin. “But tomorrow, you’d better do all the cooking and cleaning,” she added with a grin.

Sigrid was too good to him; she was too much like her mother. He gave a mock salute, his smile growing a little brighter. “I’ll be back in a while; I don’t want to stay out too long in this cold.”

“Where’re you going, Da,” Tilda asked through a mouthful of her cookie as Bard got to his feet.

“I’m going to take the boat out for a bit, be good for Sig, alright?”

“ _ Alright _ ,” she mumbled, getting the hint that her father was going to be going out on the lake  _ alone  _ and that this wasn’t going to be a family affair. Maybe he would even bring back some honey from the market like he said.

Bard shrugged on his fur coat and slipped the letter into the inner pocket before hugging his children goodbye. “I’ll be back before long,” he promised as he hugged Sigrid, “thank you for watching them.” And to the other two, he added, “Be good. I don’t want you to wait up for me.”

The three siblings muttered their agreement and helped Sigrid clean up what was left from supper as Bard headed out to the docks once again. His strides were long and even despite the slight wobble of the wood planks beneath his feet, and he kept his head down, avoiding the prying eyes of the guards and the Master’s spies. His boat was a welcome sight - it was the only place he had to go when he needed to think - the lapping of the water on the sides of the boat was soothing once he started getting out further into the lake, beyond the confines of Laketown.

Bard didn't open the letter until he was far enough away that someone wouldn't be able to clearly see what he was doing, but when he took it out of his coat, he couldn't help but notice the heavy paper it was written on and the unfamiliar wax seal holding it shut. He carefully broke the seal and glanced over the page curiously. Was this some sort of a joke? The page was completely and utterly blank. Bard gave an irritated laugh as he brushed his fingertips over the page. Of course. The letter was nothing more than a way to get Bard out of his house, but that would mean… He spun around on the bench of his boat to survey the edge of Laketown; nothing seemed amiss, but what if this was just a ploy of some kind?

When he turned back to take one more look at the letter, something curious was happening to the parchment, ink splotches were bleeding from the corners of the page. The black ink was spidering into thin lines that formed letters which then spelled out a message. It was unlike anything the bowman had ever seen and he knew absolutely no one who could perform such enchantments.

_ Bard, _

_ It is with great hope that I write this letter - hope that it will find you well and that you are willing to come to the aid of a fellow scholar. I have studied the elves of Mirkwood for a great many years; I have even had the pleasure of befriending some of them before their kingdom had fallen. But new knowledge has passed into my hands and you are one of the few that may be able to translate it. _

_ If you are willing to help, follow the directions below and meet me before your work begins in the morning. I believe the information I have may be what you have been searching for in your studies. _

_ -Gandalf the Grey _


End file.
